


Ever Hallow's Eve

by JHsgf82



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Romance, canon/canon-divergence, trick-or-treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHsgf82/pseuds/JHsgf82
Summary: District 12 celebrates Halloween, and Everlark takes the toast babies trick-or-treating.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Ever Hallow's Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eiramrelyat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiramrelyat/gifts).



> For eiramrelyat. Happy Birthday! Originally posted on Tumblr.

It was nearing the end of October, and District 12 had adopted an old tradition from many years ago, before Panem was Panem. It was a festival of sorts called Halloween. This festival (or holiday) had gone by numerous other names, such as All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ Eve for the evening of October 31st and Day of the Dead (Dia de Los Muertos) and All Souls’ Day for November 1st, varying based upon the place, culture, and belief system.

There had been some debate over whether or not such a festival should be allowed, its connotation ranging from honoring the dead to exploring haunted sites to evil spirits to playing tricks or receiving treats. The people weighed in. Some believed that anything having to do with the dead or spirits was either dangerous or far too morbid for the new D12, and others thought the celebration pointless, frivolous even, too much like the Capitol.

Ultimately, the motion passed. And most agreed with it.

After all, with the Hunger Games a dead institution and poverty and starvation far less common, not just in D12 but all throughout Panem, why not celebrate? Even indulge a little. Considering how long its citizens had gone without proper food and basic necessities, didn’t they deserve to? The people of District 12 had suffered plenty; the place had even been reduced to ashes and rebuilt from the ground up, which would make it a fitting setting for paranormal activity‒if you believed in that sort of thing‒but most citizens just wanted to forget about it and move on. And so, they chose to go the treats route (although some of the naughtier children in town had learned of the tricks aspect and were making liberal use of it).

But really, what did it hurt to give the children a night to dress up and eat sugary treats?

Nothing. At least not according to the new mayor, who had a couple of young children of his own.

It hadn’t been easy filling the position of mayor in the newly rebuilt D12, and quite a few names had come up as possibilities. Some were even lobbying for either Katniss or Peeta, neither of whom wanted the job and thus quickly withdrew their names. Finally, someone was chosen, a relatively young man but one wise and compassionate.

So now, District 12, once the lowliest of districts in Panem, was thriving, with freshly remodeled buildings, a growing population, and a lush green meadow‒a graveyard turned playground. It had become a place of hope, peace, and remembrance, all due to a pair of star-crossed lovers…

* * *

As for one-half of the pair, Peeta had been all over the notion of giving out treats to the children of District 12. And so, for the entire week leading up to the festival of Halloween, he’d been busy down at the bakery, creating special goodies to give out to the kids‒with their parents’ permission, of course.

Time was children went door-to-door in costume saying trick-or-treat and receiving sweet edibles called candy. This was the plan for this Saturday, October 31st. That night, Peeta and Katniss, like many other parents in town, planned to take their children around to collect treats from their neighbors. Since they wouldn’t be around to give out treats themselves at home, Peeta had decided to give them out early at the bakery.

Peeta’s recently rebuilt bakery had been a great success. With the new regime and Peeta’s prices, practically everyone could afford to have freshly baked bread and other baked goods on a regular or at least semi-regular basis. There were still those who were less advantaged than others in every district, which was bound to happen, as every government has its kinks to work out, but overall, the new democratic system of Panem was working. And as for the lower-income citizens, there were outreach programs in place for them now. In D12, one thing Peeta did to help was to give away the unsold bread and pastries at the end of the day and those which had reached their sell-by dates (but were still perfectly fine).

As for the upcoming occasion (Halloween), Peeta had been baking all manner of goodies for it; he’d even made his own version of ‘candy,’ which used to be mass-produced. Peeta assumed his was far better because it was made by hand, not by a machine, and each piece was unique. He’d baked and decorated sugar cookies, muffins, and sweet cinnamon buns, experimenting with flavors and icings, toppings, and fillings, creating an assortment of visually-appealing, tasty treats in miniature form.

Katniss had said he was going overboard. Imagine that.

Well, he didn’t want to send the children into a sugar coma, so he’d agreed to tone it down a little.

Aside from that, Peeta had convinced his wife to go along with the Halloween customs, though he’d had to do some arm-twisting when it came to the costumes, at least hers. It wasn’t like they’d never been required to dress up before, he’d pointed out. Okay, so it was a little different, but this would be way more fun than a Tribute Parade or a Victory Tour, wouldn’t it?

Judging by Katniss’s reaction, it was as if it was no better.

But Peeta had assured her it’d be enjoyable. “Won’t it be great to see the kids dressed adorably with huge smiles on their faces?” he’d said. And it was enough to bring a smile to Katniss’s face.

Both Katniss and Peeta wanted the best for their children, after all. They wanted them to be happy and content, as happy as they had been for the past two decades. Well, happier. It’s only natural for a parent to want more for their children, and Peeta and Katniss certainly didn’t want theirs to endure anything remotely close to what they had.

And yes, there were still the occasional flashbacks, the intermittent nightmares, and some bad nights, but they sheltered one another as they did in the arenas. They managed the darkness together like they always had, and they’d become even stronger for their children.

Yes, they had children now, two of them.

Claire Everdeen-Mellark came along first. The dancing girl with the dark hair and blue eyes was born in spring. Sprightly like her mother and quick-witted like her father was she. And like her name, Claire was the light which had shone through the darkness that still dwelled within the recesses of her parents’ minds. She was four years old now.

Katniss’s pregnancy with Claire was hard on her, to say the least, the emotional toll being far worse than any of the physical symptoms. But Peeta helped her through it. Having Claire and watching her grow had been overwhelmingly positive for the both of them, and they knew soon after that they wanted another. A sibling for Claire to play with. And in Katniss’s heart, she truly missed the joy of cradling a newborn in her arms. Still, it took nearly two years for her to want to try again.

One-and-a-half-year-old Blythe, the boy with the blond curls and gray eyes came next, in winter, just as the deep chill settled in. Blythe was easier for Katniss to carry, but only slightly. And as with the girl, there was the initial panic at his conception. But again, Peeta was there.

Despite his wintery arrival, Blythe was all warmth. He was a happy and carefree baby, hence, his name. Katniss had sensed this early on, that this one would be like their father. And she’d been right. Giggly and smiley, Blythe loved to chew on his hands and stare adoringly at his big sister, who teased him about drooling so much but loved him just the same. And he was trying so hard to talk.

The family of four had eventually moved out of Victors’ Village and into a home they built themselves (with some help, of course), one closer to The Seam. Or rather, what used to be The Seam‒things were no longer so segregated. There was no Merchant or Seam now, simply District 12. They’d retained the name as part of their identity.

District 12 was more populated now, and there was a whole new generation, but some of the old still remained. Like Haymitch. After nearly twenty years, he was older but still basically the same. He spent his days grumbling and drinking and tending his geese. He was beginning to slow down, but his feistiness hadn’t tempered a bit. And he loved, loved those babies. Even if he wouldn’t say it in so many words.

As for Effie, she’d managed to overcome whatever Snow and the Capitol did to her and was more like herself again. She’d actually visited 12 a couple of times to see her two Victors and their offspring (and Haymitch, too, though she’d never admit to that). But mostly she sent things. Effie loved sending clothing and fashionable items to the Everdeen-Mellarks, particularly their children, and she’d become an important figure in Claire and Blythe’s young lives.

When Effie first visited little Claire, who was one at the time, Claire had mistakenly called Effie Grandma, but she’d actually baby-babbled ‘Glam-ma’ instead, which Peeta found to be quite fitting. And Effie cried. So, Effie became ‘Glam-ma’ and proceeded to live up to the name, showering Claire, and yes, Blythe, too (when he came along) with frilly, pretty little outfits. It was almost like the Victory tour all over again, almost. Effie really hadn’t changed much, but at least her heart was always in the right place.

Not that Katniss and Peeta always agreed with Effie’s tastes; they never really had.

One day, for instance, they received a tiny sailor suit meant for Blythe. While Katniss held it up, observing it curiously with a hint of disdain, Peeta read the letter. Apparently, sailor outfits were all the rage years ago, especially in D4. Well, seemed Effie found the notion of a seaman rather romantic and thought Blythe would look adorable in it.

He looked ridiculous. And Katniss said so. Peeta chuckled as he covered their son’s ears like he had any idea what was going on. “It’s not that bad,” Peeta had said. Long story short, they ended up taking a photo to send to Effie, and after that, Blythe never wore the sailor suit again.

* * *

It was nearing 5 PM on Halloween, or All Hallow’s Eve, and Peeta had just made it home from the bakery. With little time to spare. He assumed Katniss would already be readying the kids for their night out, and he’d promised to help.

“Katniss,” he called out as he entered their home. No answer. “Katniss,” he tried again as he looked around the all-too-quiet house. Yes, the place had been quiet when he was coming home to just Katniss, but that changed after they had kids. No noise was a very bad sign.

Peeta breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found two of the three in his and Katniss’s bedroom. Katniss had Blythe on his back on the changing pad.

“You’re home,” Katniss commented in a near toneless voice, the slight lilt at the end suggesting she was a bit annoyed by his tardiness.

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late. I got a last-minute order for a cake. Kids didn’t give you too much trouble, did they?”

“No.” She shook her head as she finished diapering their son. “Can you hand me that?” She motioned toward Blythe’s costume, which she’d carefully laid out on the bed. Peeta picked it up and smiled. He handed it to Katniss, giving her a peck on the cheek along with it.

“I think this’ll be cute,” he said. Katniss smiled ever so slightly.

“Hey, where’s-?” He didn’t even get her name out before he heard ‘Daddy!’ in a high-pitched girly squeal. He turned just in time for Claire to whoosh in and throw herself into his arms. He picked her up and twirled her around.

“There’s my girl,” he said smiling and nuzzling noses with her. She peppered his cheeks with wet kisses before he set her down.

Peeta turned back to Katniss, who was busy with Blythe, but the smile on her face was now unmistakable. Maybe she’d already gotten over being upset with him. He certainly hoped so because he was hoping to have a little celebration of their own, just him and her, after the kids went to bed.

Twenty minutes later, after only mild complications, Katniss and Peeta had the kids and themselves dressed for trick-or-treating. They led them outside, into the crisp autumn evening air, and Peeta went for the small wagon in the shed, which they planned to haul Blythe around in. He pulled out the wooden cart, painted orange, the wheels giving a slight squeak as he turned them sharply. Then he took Blythe from Katniss’s arms and hefted him into the little orange wagon.

The blond-haired, gray-eyed, pink-cheeked toddler sat there, dressed as a sack of flour, staring up at his daddy. Peeta took a couple of steps back to get a good look at the entire group.

They’d decided to dress in costume as a family, and their neighbor‒a sweet, aging woman, who reminded Katniss a bit of Greasy Sae and was a whiz at sewing‒had made their costumes for them after Peeta mentioned something to her in passing.

Naturally, there’d been debate over what they’d wear. Claire had started the whole thing by saying they should dress up as food or something because Daddy works in a bakery and everyone loves food. This got Peeta thinking, and he’d suggested they all be ingredients. After a lot of discussion, they settled on chocolate chip cookies, because as Claire pointed out, Mommy loved chocolate.

Peeta listed out the ingredients, and again, after much talk, they decided Claire would be the sugar, Blythe would be the flour, Daddy would be the butter, and Katniss would be the cookie (the final product). Only, Claire had protested, saying she wanted to be the baker, like Daddy.

Peeta smiled, recalling the conversation…

_“Well, we have butter, flour, and the cookie, but no sugar. I believe we’re missing a very vital ingredient, baby girl.”_

_“But I want to be like you, Daddy!”_

_Peeta was sure his heart melted at that moment. “And that makes me so happy, sweetheart. See, that’s why you should be the sugar‒because you’re so sweet.”  
  
_ _Claire flashed a mouth nearly full of tiny teeth. “Well, I guess it’s okay…”_  
 _  
But Peeta didn’t want to disappoint his daughter, and of course, he wanted her to be what she wanted to be, so they made a compromise. “I suppose we do need a baker to bake the cookies…,” he said._  
  
They ended up putting Claire in the sugar costume, a baggy white romper with a label on the front and white tights, but in addition, she wore an apron around her waist and a poofy, white baker’s hat.

Peeta appraised his wife next. When Katniss had first asked what she should wear, Peeta was torn. On one hand, something cute would be nice, but on the other hand, he could definitely get on board with a sexy costume, and apparently, that used to be a thing. But, seeing how they were taking their children out around town to collect treats, it didn’t seem appropriate. And admittedly, he didn’t want too much of Katniss showing. That would be saved just for him, for later, hopefully…

Katniss had reluctantly agreed to be the cookie. She’d done it for him and for the kids, and well, despite the ridiculousness of the costume, it had one thing going for it‒it hid her small but noticeable baby bump. Yes, they were having another, and she wasn’t quite ready for people to start asking about it, so the costume would come in handy tonight.

Quite frankly, this third one had been an accident. But she wasn’t freaking out about it. In fact, she was surprisingly calm when she found out about it this time. Maybe she was getting used to being pregnant. Although, she’d never truly get used to being so front-heavy and how difficult that made everything besides waddling around the house.

“Everyone looks great,” Peeta exclaimed, grinning.

“But Peeta, did we really have to go matching?” Katniss made one final whine of protest. “The kids look cute, sure, but I look ridiculous.” He looked a little ridiculous, too, dressed as a giant yellow stick of butter, but she decided not to tell him so.

“You do not. You look great,” he said.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Trust me, you’re adorable. Come here.” Peeta motioned for her. She took a step or two forward, and he met her halfway. Giving a wry smirk, he laced their hands and leaned in close to her ear. “You’re the sexiest cookie I’ve ever seen,” he whispered.

“You find cookies sexy?” she teased flatly.

Peeta chuckled. “Oh, sure. I am a baker, after all.”

Katniss shook her head at her husband; the man with the golden tongue certainly could be corny at times. At that, he squeezed her hands and met her lips for a long but chaste kiss.

When they pulled back, Claire had her hands slapped over her eyes while Blythe stared and muttered something not quite decipherable in baby talk.

“You can uncover your eyes, Claire-Claire,” Peeta said. She did so hesitantly, and father and daughter took turns poking their tongues out at each other. Of course, Peeta started it.

Once more, Katniss shook her head, smiling faintly as she folded up the kids’ sweaters and placed them in the wagon with Blythe. He grabbed at the top one with his tiny, chubby little hands.

“Alright, I think we’re just about ready.” Peeta placed his hands on his hips (or approximately where they would be if not encumbered by a blocky yellow costume), and he took stock of his family one last time.

“Well, you all look…delicious,” Peeta said, winking at Katniss. Claire giggled; Katniss smirked, and Blythe spit up a little. Katniss took care of that.

And so, they headed out, Peeta pulling the wagon with Blythe and Katniss, and Claire holding hands.

“Wonder what we’ll get from Uncle Haymitch,” Claire said.

Katniss and Peeta shot each other a look. It was hard telling. Could be anything, or nothing. But they had given him plenty of warning about this and reminded him several times. They’d done everything shy of actually getting the goodies themselves. Maybe they should have done that, in retrospect. But no, not even Haymitch would let down those kids. He loved them like his own grandbabies.

Turned out, Haymitch delivered. He’d gotten some fancy chocolate-covered nut bar somewhere for Claire and basically a cup of sugar with a dipping stick for Blythe. Both treats were absolute winners.


End file.
